Ten Songs For You
by What About Today
Summary: Ten drabbles on different subjects, for different characters. Zemyx, AkuRoku, SoKai, and RiSo are mentioned and used as plot bunnies. Based off of ten random songs from my music collection. Rated for language mostly.


**The Random Song Meme**

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING I TELL YOU!!

AN: Yeah, so I wrote this for DeviantArt actually, but it's being a bitch and won't let me upload anything literature, so I thought I might as well post it here, so I could…. I don't know… NOT have wasted two afternoons of my oh-so precious time? It's a DA meme I read somewhere where you take 10 songs at random off of your computer's library (by shuffling) and write a drabble for each. I FAIL at drabbles, obviously, because all of these are about a hundred (or four) words too long. Oh, well.

I would sugest listening to the songs before you read the drabble, although it's totally not nessessary.

I- Dance Floor Anthem (Good Charlotte)

Kairi was completely, wholly, utterly out of control. She partied recklessly and slept around like the common twenty dollar whore she said she'd never let herself be. It was sickening. There would be no saving her now, and Sora knew it. And that, as depressing and wrong as the thought seemed, was _exactly_ why he absolutely _refused_ to acknowledge the word, 'love'. Not anymore.

He really had thought that what they had had _was_ love. He certainly treated it as such. But apparently it was not to be. She used and abused him until he had enough. She started drinking again, and then the coke came back, and _then_, only _then_, when she became too much of a danger to herself and him, _then_, when she refused to go back to rehab, _then_ and _only then_, did he break it off. And it almost killed his heart and soul to do it.

That was nearly a year ago. Nearly one year of being single and dismissive, nearly seven months since he last heard her voice, nearly five and a half months since he got that gods-damned call, nearly five months and one week since the funeral, nearly four months since he had left Destiny Islands behind _for good this time_.

He straightened his hat, a necessary part of his work attire, which involved a read collared shirt and black pants, black shoes, a black belt, a broad smile and a cheerfully delivered, and gruelingly practiced proclaim of, "Welcome to Pizza Hut! How may I help you today?" Some hero _he_ was.

It was a Monday, he supposed, at around 4:30pm, when a painful memory of the past walked right into the restaurant, tall and beautiful as ever. Sora didn't recognize him at first, as he had left the islands two or so years before Sora did, and had grown up a bit since then.

Sora brightly recited his line like a broken record, but skipped and stuttered when a familiar voice spoke to him, "Sora? That you?"

He gasped, looking into all too familiar green/blue eyes, his mouth falling into the shape of a surprised 'O'.

"It is you, isn't it?" Riku asked, smiling widely. "What brings you all this way from home?"

For a moment, the key-bearer could say nothing at all. Then, ever so slowly, he smiled. It was a poor, void ghost of the grins he used to possess, but it was honest, and the first _real_ smile he had given anyone in a long, long time. "I've been living in Hollow Bastion for a few months, now." He replied, in an almost empty sort of way that did not go unnoticed by his former best friend.

Riku smiled apologetically. "Is that so? Well, if I had known, I would have wandered on in this direction a long time ago."

Good thing this was a slow time of day, Sora thought vaguely, because the emptiness of the restaurant left time for conversing. "Did you hear about Kairi?"

Riku's smile faded to a remorseful frown. "Yes," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

Sora shrugged, his cold heart shivering at the expression on the other's face. He didn't like it. _At all_. Old memories flashed back to life, Riku and him, alone, on the late night beach, that never-ending midnight. Riku talking- Sora always had liked it when Riku would talk…. And when he'd smile….

Shit! No! "It's okay, Riku," He said, staring sadly into deep green/blue eyes that he had sorely missed. "I just… I don't want to be in love."

II- Call It Karma (Silverstein)

He blamed fate for years. He blamed fate for that stupid blond that would never leave him alone, that same blond who moved in next door, when that blond demanded friendship and took no less, when that _idiotic_ blond stole his first kiss, taking with him his _heart_, when the blond held his hand in public, when they had sex under the waning moon in the summertime, when he felt so whole _it hurt_, when he got scared and tried to push the blonde's love away, when he paid dearly for it.

Zexion blamed fate, just so he didn't have to blame himself. He had _wasted_ years with that blond, and still, he couldn't make himself regret any bit of it. Damn it all to hell. Where was Demyx now? Was he gone? Forever? The dingy little apartment had never felt so empty, so cold, as it did today. Zexion shivered and sighed.

Fuck it, he wanted a cigarette. Demyx had helped him quit… He hadn't wanted one so bad in over a year. He didn't have any stashed, and his car was running dangerously low on gas. Better not risk it… Not until his paycheck came through, at least. Damn the heating being too expensive. His shivered again, pulling his sweatshirt more snuggly over his thin-framed body. It hadn't been a problem when he had someone to shiver and curl up with….

He imagined a knock coming upon the door. He imagined standing up, cursing under his breath about the lateness of the hour, and how rude it was to call unannounced. He imagined opening the door to face a familiar blond, who was _just_ taller than him. He imagined gaping at the man's presence before being pulled abruptly into a tight embrace. He imagined the smell of melon and clean spring water, cleansing his senses, making him relax. He imagined the calloused hand running through his hair, the soft lips against his own, brushing lightly. He imagined the words, breathed into his ear as fingers intertwined with fingers and the door to the hallway was closed, "I missed you, Zexy."

"Fuck it all," Zexion breathed into the emptiness of his apartment, and in his heart. He could blame it on anything he liked, but the truth of the matter was:

It was _entirely his fault_. Call it karma.

III- Let It Bleed (The Used)

He never cried when he fell on the playground. Just brushed the sand and dirt from his scabbed and bleeding knee with an equally filthy hand and get on with his life. He never thought it mattered much. Now, he couldn't care less.

He watched the blood trickle from his split lip, licking up the metallic taste, tending more to the bruises than anything else. Boy, when you're a fighter, some days you win, some days you walk away with a split lip, and some days, you don't walk away at all.

Axel glared daggers into the mirror, more at the idea than his reflection, really. He would tell anyone who would listen that all he wanted was to win some money, some respect, and then, just like on the playground, get up and move on with his pathetic, insignificant life.

But really, some days, days like _today_ he just wanted the day to come when he didn't get up at all. He just wanted to let it bleed, let his heart finally cease to beat in his chest, because he didn't _need_ a heart if he couldn't find that _damn blond_ to share it with. He knew, somewhere in a deeper part of his being, that he would never see his little lucky thirteen from that past life again.

He scoffed and vacated the bathroom.

IV- Everybody's Fool (Evanescence)

The witch was ill. Ill fated, ill willed, and ill spent. She was exhausted from use, and sick of all this _nothingness_. Marluxia, Larxene, Zexion, DiZ, Sora, Kairi…. Hadn't she done her part? Hadn't she given her share of toil? She certainly thought so.

Apparently no one else did.

Namine sighed. There she was: The other half. And DiZ had told Namine that _she_ was fake. Just what was there about Kairi that was _real_? She was every definition of the plastic, cookie-cutter, Barbie-like, teenaged girl. Namine… wasn't. How she had ended up like this, she would never understand.

Namine was in prison. Sometimes, in the latest hours of the night, she could hear Roxas crying, trapped just like her, fed up and used by other people's lies. Roxas was _not_ Sora. And she would never be Kairi. That was the sad, sick truth. Roxas wanted his life back, his friends, and his _own_ enemies. He hated the way he was forced to associate with Riku, just because Sora did. It was sick. It was wrong. Namine knew.

"It's the fate of a _Nobody_." She hated the words, even as she said them.

Fading would have been better. At least then she could see the few people in the Organization that were nice to her again. She wanted to die. But Kairi would never let her go free. She was suffocating in her trapped-by-society-and-lies confinement. She hated everything, even herself.

The day Namine began to hate was the day Kairi began to drink. Sora would never forget it. Roxas wanted to be like her, but knew he could never go free.

"Now you're everybody's fool, Kairi, but I'm not. I don't love you _anymore_!"

V- Diary of Jane (Breaking Benjamin)

I want you to love me, damn it! I want you to…. To love me _half as much_ as I love you. That would be enough. That would be a godsend, really. I want you to let me run my fingers through that blue/violet/silver hair, see both of your eyes, watch them drift closed ever-so-slowly as I caress those smooth, pale lips with my own, tongues dancing together to a melody only we can hear. I want to hear you touch those piano keys just to play something for me, as I have (without your knowledge usually) picked up the guitar for you so very often.

I see you writing in a notebook a lot. Sometimes I wonder if it's a diary. Sometimes I wish it's a letter for me. Always, I fight the temptation to ask you what it is you're writing so diligently. But I always, _always_ wonder.

If it is a diary, what do you write in it? Is there every any mention of me? Is it good things? Or just the way I never leave you in peace, or the way my stupid hair will never go into a calm style, or the way my muddy-green eyes stare into your _perfect_ charcoal-blue ones, offending you by their ugliness? I guess I'd like to say, "I don't care what you think of me, as long as you think of me!" But I know in my heart, I'd rather not exist than be hated by you.

Maybe I shouldn't exist. Then your picture would be perfect. No ugly, lanky, too-thin-no-matter-how-much-I-eat me in your photo, no muddy-green eyes, no teeth trapped by braces, no freckled nose, no unseemly blond hair that never does look _quite_ clean, no matter how many times I wash it, and most importantly, no dumb, loud rock music stealing your space and air in the music room on Thursdays after school. Yeah, that would be nice, wouldn't it?

It would just be you. Perfect you, with your porcelain-like, flawless ivory skin, and your soft, always shiny hair, and your perfect eyes, and your nice and definitely-not-awkward build, and your incredible voice, your crisp handwriting, and always, _always_ that notebook, with you bent over it, eyebrows furrowed with concentration, writing about how your world was so beautiful, and so _perfect_ without an _eyesore _like me, like "Whatshisname? Demyx? Oh, I can't remember. It was something like that."

You would smile that rare-but-excellent smile more often. You would laugh out loud. You would be so much more radiant than you already are (if that's even possible) without me there to hold you down. You would be an angel. An angel that could just fly right away if you wanted to. Beautiful, perfect _you_.

But then, just as I think this, wanting to disappear _right now_ just so you can make that image real, you catch me watching you, look up, stare at me for a long time with those _immensely gorgeous_ eyes (well the one I can see) and I think I see- just barely catch, mind you, a small smile and a wink. I smile too, feeling my face heat up. You give me a sly look from across the cafeteria and I blush more and blink in embarrassment. You wink again, and- Is that a small hint of pink on you cheeks? And then you look away, back at you book, suddenly not looking quite so stiff.

Suddenly, you are writing slowly, an _almost-smile_ gracing those beautiful lips I want to kiss much too badly. Suddenly, I _don't_ want to disappear anymore.

VI- Hello (Evanescence)

He wanted to hide. For the rest of his life, he wanted to hide away and wallow in his gargantuan mistakes, his pride, his jealousy, his love, his… his need to be better than Sora, to prove himself. It should have killed him. He whole-heartedly wished it had.

He faded in and out of consciousness for what could have been seconds or eternities. When in the land of the living, he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, fading glow-in-the-dark stars still remaining from when he and Sora had put them up in their youth. When in the realm of dreams he floated, suspended in darkness, awaiting the end of _everything_.

Then, in the void and emptiness, there was a voice, one single, frail voice in the shrill silence of it all. Riku couldn't tell who the voice belonged to, but it seemed to be male, and a friend. It spoke to him softly, like speaking to a small injured child.

In his mind, Riku probably _was_ a small, injured child. Hell, he was probably scarred for _life_ from all the shit he'd been through in the past three years. He never did adjust back to life on the island…. Maybe he should move away, start over.

"Riku," The voice said softly, "Hello, Please don't cry." It was then that he realized his cheeks were wet, but he cared little for it. It wasn't like anyone could see him. No, another thought caught up to him first.

He faced the voice, not that it had a solid body, but he felt it to his left, so he turned there, and whispered, (perhaps a bit afraid of the answer) "Who are you?"

"I'm you mind." He said kindly, wiping away the tears with a hand that did not really exist. "I'm here to give you someone to talk to."

He was still in there, somewhere: what remained of the Riku of yesterday.

VII- Shut Your Eyes (Snow Patrol)

Demyx opened his eyes slowly. Then he squealed in elation.

It was a beach. A simple, clean beach, with bright blue waters and brighter sunshine, white sandy shores, and a salty breeze that kissed his face lightly. It was warm, and comforting with the sounds of the waves beating upon the shore and the distant caw of fishing birds somewhere else. No one else was within sight.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, smiling out across the view quietly. "It's really lovely."

It was perfect. Nothing had been left out. The place looked _exactly_ like the beach of Demyx's dreams. The Cloaked Schemer really _was _a professional at what he did. Yes, that was right. This was an illusion. A flawless one, but one none the less.

Demyx knew the object of his affection had heard him, and wasn't surprised when the Schemer said nothing in response. He must have been studying beaches for weeks to get an illusion _this accurate_, as the Melodious Nocturne was certain the bluenette had never been before.

"Zexy?" he asked to the air nervously.

"Yes, Demyx?" Zexion's voice echoed through the blonde's mind in a rather eerie manner, causing him to shiver slightly. "Is everything in order?"

"Oh, it's just right," The blond assured the scientist. "Just…. There's one thing missing."

"Oh?" The tone was very obviously curious. Zexion was _always_ curious.

Demyx fidgeted a little for a moment. Then, "Can you come out? It's creepy talking to you like this." He bit his lower lip as he awaited the answer.

"Certainly," Zexion said, now standing beside the Nocturne. Demyx grinned. "What's missing?"

The Schemer gasped, caught off guard by the sudden weight against his body, the warm arms that were wrapping themselves around him, the strong, but not heavy sent of cucumber-melon filling his senses with nothing but Demyx for a few seconds. The surroundings flickered to monochromatic hues and back, as Zexion forced concentration back into his mind.

Demyx smiled into the other's neck, breathing in his always clean sent, like bleach without being toxic, or a spring breeze without the flowery undertones. "Nothing, anymore, Zexy." He breathed into the other's ear, answering the previous question, chuckling at his superior's flushed face and wide-eyed expression. The colors flickered out and back again.

Zexion gasped when Demyx began to plant slow, warm kisses across his ear, jaw line, and throat, struggling to breathe and hold the illusion now, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

"Relax," Demyx murmured, rubbing slow circles on the shorter man's back. "You don't have to hold the illusion anymore. The important part of this is _you_."

Zexion spluttered senselessly until warm lips met his own, caressing him slowly. The beach faded and flickered away, leaving the pair to kiss in a secluded area of the Castle That Never Was. It was certainly less beautiful of a place, but one doesn't need beautiful illusions when one's eyes are closed.

VIII- Breathe Today (Flyleaf)

It wasn't about Kingdom Hearts anymore. Not _really._ No, Now it was all about that little brunette, that creepy duck, and that odd dog/walrus/_thing_. Xigbar wasn't really sure why the missions had changed so suddenly, but he expected it had something to do with the traitor.

Ha, 'traitor'. As if there had only been one! Xigbar remembered the others too, the ones that had already perished by means of the Keyblade, or something else more brutal.

Number Four, Vexen. The Chilly Academic. Xigbar had liked him. Well enough, anyway. He was a decent Nobody. And he was fun to drink with. Axel had killed him. There wasn't even enough left of a body to bury. It really was a shame.

Number Five, Lexaeus. The Silent Hero. He hadn't known Lex that well, but Demyx used to talk about how he was a good listener. The First Keybearer had killed him. Oh, well. This should not be dwelled upon.

Number Six, Zexion. The Cloaked Schemer. Hell, Demyx had cried for _ages_ when he heard the news, holding back his sobs so as not to make a sound, for they were all told that it had been deserved. Xigbar wasn't so sure. That was the second friend of his Axel had killed. The body was nearly mummified when he found it. It was _dreadful_. Demyx never _was_ quite the same after that. Well, Xigbar hoped he had found peace. He never returned from the mission to Hollow Bastion some time ago.

Number Eleven, Marluxia. The Graceful Assassin. Now, _he_ was an asshole. Xigbar actually laughed, yes, he _laughed_ when he learned _that Nobody's _fate. Keyblade to the face, much? Not so pretty now, are you? Heh, heh.

Number Twelve, Larxene. The Savage Nymph. And savage she was! She was a good lay, though, so Xigbar had been told. Whatever. She deserved it too, the little wench. That's what you get for beating people up for no reason! Ha-ha!

Finally, Number Thirteen, Roxas. The Key of Destiny. When Xemnas spoke of _'the traitor'_ he was referring to the little blond baby-doll everyone had loved or, should he say 'loved' so much. It was ridiculous, really. The kid was full of angst. Xigbar certainly wasn't surprised when he flew to coop. Actually; he lost the bet with Luxord over how soon it was going to happen. He thought the kid would last a month, if that. Fail. But only a little.

So why did Short-Stuff matter _so damn much_ to Xemnas? Who knew? Xigbar certainly didn't, and he was _supposed _to be second in command. Whatever. He didn't really care anymore. That brunette kid that was sort-of Roxas, but not really was in the castle now. They were all about to die.

"About time!" One last snide remark. Heh. That's just the way Xigbar rolled.

IX- To Whom it May Concern (Underoath)

He left. He walked away.

No.

He _ran. _He _ran away_.

He still regrets it sometimes. Most of the time, really.

It was the only thing he had _ever_ had that belonged _solely to him._ And he had to fucking throw it _all away_. 'It's the fate of a Nobody.' That bastard of a man had said. Roxas would never forgive him, and so, in effect, Sora could never feel bad about the man's death. He never knew why. Roxas didn't care.

Hell, Roxas didn't care about _anything_ anymore. Not since he watched (through Sora's eyes) his only love and best friend die, committed suicide from the agony of being alone. And as he watched, he knew it was all _his fault_ for running off, for being a coward, and a creep.

Damn it all to fucking hell! Sora may be G-rated, but Roxas cursed like a sailor. Maybe it was from spending so much time with Xigbar and Luxord on Thursday poker-nights? Or maybe it was just his personality. Something he _didn't _inherit. Yeah, he liked that thought. It made him feel a bit more real. Reality was good, in a horrible sort of way. Reality meant he wasn't a bad dream, but it also meant he was alone.

He deserved it. The only person he had ever actually cared about died thinking he wasn't loved. It fucking sucked. Roxas' horror-induced emotions- yes _emotions_, Xemnas was fucking _wrong_- bled through his personality into Sora's dreams, giving him gruesome nightmares that the two shared. At least he knew what his other half was going through to some extent.

Damn it. Roxas wanted to feel that heat again. Why didn't he just die? It didn't make sense! If he had died, Axel would have met him in the Afterlife, and they could have actually _been something_, instead of the void of nothing mixed with raw and uncontainable emotions.

Ha, ha, Sora. Guess who stole your virginity? And you weren't even there! I bet Riku will never forgive Axel for that, huh? Well, too bad! It's all Roxas had that he didn't have to share with _you!_ Well, that and the cursing.

Fuck. Another nightmare. Gods, how Roxas longed to touch that fiery red hair again! Too bad he'd never get the chance.

X- Float On (Modest Mouse)

In the course of a single day, I got two speeding tickets, fired from my job, a horrible haircut, lost one of my eye contacts, broke my only pair of glasses at the bridge, spent twenty dollars on nothing, had an argument with my sister, got rained on, dropped my cell phone in a mud puddle, ruined my only DVD copy of my favorite movie, got bitten by the neighbor's dog, stained all my white laundry pink from accidentally putting that red shirt I got for my birthday from my brother in with them, ripped a slash through my only green tie, fell down a flight of stairs, fell _up_ a flight of stairs, got smacked by my co-worker for no reason (Larxene was a bitch like that.), and misplaced the key to my apartment somehow.

If there was such a thing as hell on earth, it _was_ my Monday. That is… Until Demyx came home.

He smiled cheerily at me, letting us into the apartment with his key, forcing me to strip away the soaked and torn clothing, which he took care of while I showered and redressed. Then he took a pair of kitchen scissors to my horrid haircut, repairing it to the best of his ability. It was much shorter than I liked it, but better than it had been. He called the cell provider, ordering a new phone for me, arguing with the woman on the other line for half an hour about insurance, and sewed the tie back together. He promised he'd find another copy of "Reefer Madness" at the movie store tomorrow, as it was his favorite movie as well, and growled about the bruises on my legs from the fall, while babying them like a mother. He laughed at me about the laundry, and told me not to worry, because I "looked better in pink than anyone else he knew anyway". He informed me cheerfully that he lost his job too, due to his company downsizing, so we could look together tomorrow, and that it would be fun.

Then, then, that _angel_ of a man kissed me tenderly and let me take him to bed, even though it was only 8:30, to have some 'fun'. And have fun we did, I assure you. Together we floated forward, on through the week, and the month, and the year, as well as several after it. As long as Demyx was with me, the world could end completely and I would still be able to tell my neighbors I was doing well.

Sometimes life is a bitch.

Sometimes life is okay.

XXXX

Yeah….. So most of those…. Sort of…. Really sucked. But I do rather like 5! Demyx is one of my favorite personalities to steal. 8D

Please, feel free to R&R with your favorite if you like! I'd love to hear from you! (and yes… I will be writing the rest of my newest chapter of PoS now, don't attack me please…)

HAPPY ZEMYX DAY! XD


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